


in the dark, there is:

by novadeity



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Disabled Character, DONT USE SPIT AS LUBE KIDS, Established Polyamorous Relationship, First Time, Flint is a power bottom and not even God can convince me otherwise, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Miranda Hamilton/James McGraw, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 02, Pre-Season/Series 03, Romantic Gestures, THESE ARE DIRTY DISGUSTING PIRATES DONT DO AS THEY DO, lots of kissing and being starry eyed, past Thomas Hamilton/James McGraw, these fucking gay loser pirates are going to kill me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 17:54:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13839969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novadeity/pseuds/novadeity
Summary: For all the darkness Flint offered, Silver countered it with a radiant light. They were a perfect balance, two sides of the same coin. As Flint continued to drag his hands through Silver’s dark hair, he knew he could not wait for the day this man would be his downfall.





	in the dark, there is:

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as me expressing my anger over Flint's haircut in Season 3. It spiraled into this.

Silver slammed the door shut behind him, causing it to rattle in its hinges. Flint threw barely more than an annoyed glance in his direction before returning to the charts at his table. For all Silver was concerned, he might as well have rolled his eyes.

“You’re fucking _infuriating_ , do you know that?”

Flint, as collected as ever, marked a spot on his nautical chart before closing it up and unfurling a new one. He didn’t even turn around before he sighed and answered. “What is it I’ve done this time?”

Silver laughed, an ugly, scathing thing. “Oh, don’t you give me that _shit_. Not this time. You know exactly what I’m talking about, James.”

The captain paused his navigating. He could hear genuine fury in Silver’s voice, but he had no idea what he’d done to garter such hatred. At least, not this time around. Silver only used his first name when he was enraged or truly desperate, and signs did not point to the latter. Flint put his tools down and turned around to face Silver with a genuine look of confusion.

“What the _fuck_ are you on about?”

Silver’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Are we really going to do this?” He was gripping his crutch tightly enough to wield as a weapon if necessary, a detail that was not missed by Flint.

By this point, he was genuinely becoming angered. He raised a hand to rub at his temple, feeling his rage start to simmer to the surface. He began breathing slowly, as if he were counting. “John,” he said, through gritted teeth. “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. For your sake, you should tell me in the next few seconds or get the _fuck_ out.”

Silver hobbled closer to Flint. His whole being was positively shaking with fury. Flint stood his ground, his face inches from Sliver’s. From this distance, he could see the deep cobalt of his eyes, the black and grey of his moustache and beard, the uneven tan of his skin.

“Don’t play _fucking_ coy with me,” Silver hissed, his own eyes searching Flint’s just as intensely. “Your _hair_. Your _fucking_ hair, James, that’s what I’m talking about!”

The look of complete and utter bafflement that crossed Flint’s face gave Silver pause.

“Wait - this is about my decision to _shave my head_?” Flint asked, almost unbelieving the words coming out his own mouth. Silver’s expression hardened, and Flint couldn’t stop the hand that came up to rub across his shorn head. Silver threw it a look of complete disgust. At that moment, a smirk began to form on Flint’s features. A relatively small one, but a smirk all the same, a smirk Silver recognized and despised.

“You’re joking.”

Silver gave no quarter.

“Christ, you’re serious!” Flint began to guffaw, laughing like he hadn’t in ages, like he hadn’t since Thomas was around.

Flint had observed Silver’s peculiar affinity for hair over the duration of their acquaintance. Each night, he would drag his fingers through its dark tangled mess in a desperate attempt to rid it of knots, looks of pure horror on his face as he did. After being in the sea, he would sit with a clean bucket of water for hours and scrub each strand free of salt and sand, his eyes filled with tears. He’d even make attempts to trim it whenever they ported.

Flint always assumed there was an emotional attachment for Silver with his hair, but he had never thought to ask. His own hair held no such significance to him. He had kept it long in London because that was the style, and Thomas had liked to run his hands through it when they made love. After London, he’d cut it shorter, but kept it at a respectable length for Miranda’s sake. She said she needed to be reminded of the officer she’d fallen in love with, and Flint couldn’t bear to take that from her.

Now Miranda and Thomas were gone, and the war was upon them. The darkness Flint had tried so long to keep at bay had finally consumed him, devoured his heart, and part of fully embracing it was accepting what he’d become. He’d shaved his head, in turn shedding himself of the man he’d been, and become Captain Flint once and for all.

At least that’s what he tried to tell himself. There was no simple distinction anymore between James McGraw and Captain Flint. As Miranda had pointed out, there never really had been. James had always been capable of the atrocities and the vengeance Flint was capable of. It only took being cast out of the light to discover it.

Silver was getting more angered by the second, his moustache practically quivering, his lips wet from anxiously licking them. “I don’t find this very humorous, and frankly, neither should you.”

Flint made great attempts to stifle his outburst upon seeing how horribly serious Silver was. It took him a few moments to compose himself, coughing for good measure to cover up his own embarrassment. He felt Silver’s gaze chastising him, his jaw set in anger.

_Oh, Jesus Christ._

“Oh, come on. I don’t see why this matters at all, John, it’s _my_ fucking hair -”

Silver opened his mouth in a snarl. “You’re always acting so _fucking_ clever, don’t lose your biting wit now. We both know that isn’t why I’m upset.”

Flint was exasperated. He actually did roll his eyes, leaning back against his table and opening his arms in a mock gesture of good faith. “Please, enlighten me. God knows I’m not as clever as you are, Mr. Quartermaster, and I cannot hope to fathom my mistakes -”

“Oh, _shut the fuck up_.” Silver was in his face, his hand pointing at Flint, his chest heaving. “We’re _partners_. We _share_. You didn’t even think to tell me about this decision before running off and doing it. You didn’t even consider the repercussions. Half our contacts will no longer recognize you, Flint!”

To say Flint was surprised was an understatement. The fact that Silver had taken the initiative he had in the past few months was impressive. He had risen beyond what Flint had expected of him as a quartermaster, and yes, had even become a partner; but knowing that Silver had also taken such interest in the ship’s affairs was… appealing.

Flint searched Silver’s face. His eyes were dark, his pupils blown from rage. The edges of his eyes were wrinkled with concern, his mouth turned in a deep frown. Silver’s hand had come to rest on Flint’s chest, surely feeling the steady beating of his heart, how it beat for _him_. Flint could not make himself speak, so Silver spoke for him.

“I know losing Miranda was hard. Believe me, I know,” he said softly, not looking away from Flint, attempting to ground him by keeping his hand a steady constant on his chest. “But this ship needs her captain. This crew needs certainty. It needs order. I cannot give her that without you. I need you, Flint. I need you whole and unburdened by this guilt you place on your shoulders.”

Silver stepped closer, impossibly closer, his thighs meeting Flint’s, solid and permanent.

“You are _not alone_ , James.” He whispered it as if it were sacred. Silver did not know that by saying such a thing would bind him to Flint permanently, catastrophically, intertwining their histories for better or most certainly for worse. Flint felt the exact moment his heart swelled, delusional with love, and his eyes began to water with the force of it.

When Flint looked up from his tear filled haze, Silver was gone from his cabin. For all Flint knew, he could have been a dream.

* * *

The next few days at sea were beautiful.

The oceans in the Bahamas were usually clear, but Flint could have sworn it was glittering under the rays of the golden sun. The sands were unusually white under the water, and the sea life was more active than Flint had ever seen it in his decades of seafaring.

It made the men demand a day of leisure in the surf.

Unable to deny so many an opportunity at relaxation before the hardships ahead, Flint gave the go ahead to anchor the _Walrus_ in the shallows off an unnamed island two days south of Nassau. As soon as she had dropped anchor, the crew were stripping themselves and jumping off the rails into the sea, with hollers and whoops of appreciation toward the captain and their quartermaster.

Flint stood on the quarterdeck watching a large group play some fool game in the water. They had only been anchored for an hour or two, but they couldn’t afford to be here for long. He couldn’t take this from them, though. Not with what was coming.

He rubbed a hand over his head, being dragged back to the memory of Silver in his cabin a few days past. It had been haunting his dreams, following him in his waking moments. He had been avoiding the quartermaster at every opportunity, afraid to face him. Silver had said he wasn’t alone, the same as Miranda had said he wasn’t alone, the same as Gates had said he wasn’t alone.

_The same as Thomas._

The ghost feeling of Silver’s thighs against his, his hand on his chest, knowing his heart was beating erratically, yet still saying what he’d said? He was either incredibly stupid or incredibly clever. Flint suspected a bit of both.

“Lost in thought?”

Flint was brought abruptly to the present. Silver had come up the quarterdeck to stand next to him, watching the crew. Flint only had to glance out of the corner of his eye to lose all sense of self, all sense of direction.

Silver was wet. He was without a shirt, smelling of the sea, his hair soaked and sticking to his forehead and neck. He had drying drops all over his tanned torso, leaning lightly on his crutch. The slight smile on his face was like a punch to the gut. His trousers were soaked in spots as if he’d just changed into a dry pair.

Flint stared straight ahead, a hard set to his jaw. “I see you’ve been enjoying yourself.”

Silver laughed. “And I see you haven’t.”

They stood on the quarterdeck watching the men for what could have been minutes, hours, seconds, before Silver spoke again. Softly, barely more than a whisper this time. “I meant it, you know.”

Flint turned to look at him, his stupid heart betraying him again. If only he could learn when to turn it off, when to become devoid, then he would truly be unstoppable. That was the real danger of Silver’s power over him. He made him _feel_. Flint did not like it one bit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Silver sighed. “Alright.” He turned around and began to walk away.

Flint felt his anger rise. Anger was familiar. He had felt nothing but its constant burn since Thomas had been taken. He had turned it into power. Miranda had turned it into power. Rage was a friend. He had danced with it, courted it, become intimate with it, and he had no problem coming back to it when he felt lonely.

What Silver brought out in him was different. Silver made him soft. Silver made him feel regret, remorse, a desire he was ashamed of. He was _unbelievably_ soft towards Silver. He was just _James_ again with Silver.

“I’m sorry.”

Silver froze. “What did you just say?”

Flint swallowed his rage. “Do not make me repeat it.”

He turned to look at him, questions filling his expression though none would be asked.

Flint spoke again. “I should have told you. I was distraught. I _still_ am distraught. I loved her.”

“I know you did.”

“Then understand that I needed to do it. I needed to… to let go.”

The silence between them expanded. Silver searched his face, combing over each inch as if he was looking for the truth. After a few moments, he seemed satisfied enough to put on a smile, trying to diffuse the tension.

“Try jumping in the water, James. It’ll do you some good.”

For the second time in days, Silver walked away from Flint.

He did not go in the sea.

* * *

“I’ve brought the bucket of fresh water like you asked, but you still haven’t told me what this is for, Captain.” Billy set down the bucket atop Flint’s desk, his usual inquisitive demeanor rubbing Flint in all the wrong places. He knew Billy didn’t trust him, but he didn’t need him to trust him. He just needed him to be loyal.

Flint looked up from his log to dip his quill in the inkwell. He returned to scratching away the day’s inventories. Considering they no longer had a bookkeeper, the more tedious duties like these fell to him.

Billy was still standing at his desk. Looming over it, more like.

Flint sighed. “Fetch Mr. Silver, if you please. I know you’re all messing, but I require his services.”

Billy’s eyes grew wide with suspicion. He may not trust Flint, but he trusted Flint and Silver together even less. “May I inquire as to why -?”

“No, you may not. That will be all, Billy.” Flint tried very hard not to smirk as Billy huffed out, closing the cabin door behind him.

He closed his log and sat back in his chair. What was he doing? There was no way Silver would agree to this, let alone believe his intentions were sincere. He didn’t know any other way to prove his sincerity than through this, so if Silver refused, they could pretend it hadn’t happened and go back to normal.

Except would they go back to normal? Had things ever truly been normal since the _Urca de Lima_ between them? The _Urca_ is when he first remembered feeling the same burning shame, the same guilt as when he’d been with Thomas. He knew part of that shame all too well, and he was electing to ignore its existence in this instance, but that did not mean it wasn’t _there_. He refused to call it by its name because that gave it power. He did not want Silver to have more power over him than he already did.

He heard a knock at the door. “Captain?”

“It’s open.”

Silver entered in his slow manner, his gait somewhat disturbed by the presence of the boot. He must have put it on after the swim. He put on the boot when he wanted to appear stable. Strong.

Flint motioned for him to sit at the chair across from his own, standing as he did. He could feel his pulse racing. Silver’s hair was unkempt, as if he had been meaning to get to it at a later time. Perfect.

“What is this about, if I might ask? We have some particularly good chickens tonight -”

“Have you washed your hair yet?”

Silver’s face flushed. His eyes appeared more blue for its sudden absence of color. Blue like the water earlier had been. “I beg pardon?”

Flint made his way around the desk to lean on it from the front. He refused to look away from Silver. He needed to look at Silver. He needed to do this. It was what was necessary.

“What I did requires an apology, Mr. Silver. Allow me to apologize.” He motioned to the bucket of water on the desk next to him. Silver looked towards it, and realization dawned on him, his face regaining its color instantly.

“You want to apologize for shaving your hair by washing mine.”

Flint felt heat rise to his cheeks. He watched Silver’s face for a reaction, anything that would tell him this was the mistake he knew it was. He found nothing but softness. It stabbed him like glass.

“Will you allow me?”

Silver nodded. Flint grabbed the bucket handle with a surprisingly steady hand and maneuvered himself behind Silver’s chair. He grabbed a stool from the nearby table, seating himself upon it before setting the bucket on his lap. He could see Silver’s chest rising and falling quickly. Was he as nervous as Flint was?

_Could he feel it too?_

The hand that rose to part Silver’s mane was much less steady. Silver’s hair was dry, and he could see particles of sand in it. This was the kind of mess Silver would spend hours on, shedding tears over to make clean again. Flint had to make it right.

The first touch was electric. Silver’s hair was silk soft despite the knotted state of it. Flint couldn’t help but drag his fingers through it, getting the knots out first. Silver had closed his eyes, his breathing through his nose erratic as Flint massaged his scalp.

Flint knew something was happening. His heart was pounding, but he ignored it. It would end up betraying him in the end, and this was an act of forgiveness. If England wouldn’t forgive him, John would. John would.

He began to soak strands of the dark tangles, carefully using his fingers to scrub out the sand. Silver’s hair gave off the faint scent of salt and citrus, tropical and warm. It matched his smile and his tanned, sun kissed skin. He had been cleansed of England, shed of his old life, and he’d become so beautiful for it.

Flint did not want to bring him into the darkness with him. For all the darkness Flint offered, Silver countered it with a radiant light. They were a perfect balance, two sides of the same coin. As Flint continued to drag his hands through Silver’s dark hair, he knew he could not wait for the day this man would be his downfall.

Silver was looking at him. He had opened his eyes and was watching Flint carefully. From upside down, Flint couldn’t tell his expression. He kept washing his hair, the sky growing darker and darker, until eventually Flint had to pause his activities to light the candles and lanterns.

As he sat back down, Silver spoke. “What are you thinking, James?”

Flint had finished washing and was now onto drying Silver’s hair with a cloth and brushing it with a silver comb Miranda had gifted him when they’d first met in London. He knew Silver’s questions were loaded, he knew how Silver played his games, so he answered in kind.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

Flint’s eyes went wide. “Calling your captain a liar? That’s a punishable offense.”

“With my judgement. I say you’re lying. It’s written on your face, plain as day.”

“It’s nighttime, Mr. Quartermaster.”

“You son of a bitch, don’t play coy.” Silver sat up, causing Flint to release his hair as he did. “You wouldn’t have offered to do this on a whim. You understand how intimate this is? How the crew may perceive this?”

Flint looked away, setting the bucket on the ground before standing up himself. “I don’t care what the crew perceives.”

Silver scoffed. “Will you stop _lying_ to me? Please? Jesus, do you even _hear_ yourself? James, we are addressing this.”

He felt rage’s familiar burn but kept it at bay. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Flint looked down. He could not look at Silver and admit it to his face because he was a coward. “You have no idea how soft I am because of you. _For_ you. And it terrifies me.”

Silver was silent, waiting. Flint continued. “You’re so full of light, and it blinds me John. I don’t want to drag you into the darkness. If you continue to follow me, that is where you will go. I do not want that for you.” His voice was straining with emotion, heavy with the words he refused to say.

He heard Silver shuffle forward, coming to stand directly in front of him. He used his hand to tilt his face up, forcing him to meet Silver’s gaze. His eyes were so blue, so impossibly full of opportunity. James needed to look away but Silver held him firm.

“I am capable of choosing my own sins.”

Then they were kissing. It was sudden, but soft and everything Flint needed. Silver stroked his jaw, his other hand coming to rest at his neck. He pressed Silver’s mouth for entrance, feeling their tongues meet. Flint felt a warmth he hadn’t known existed in a very long time, a lingering heat that started in your chest and enveloped your entire being. He wrapped his arms around Silver, needing to steady himself as he kissed him slowly, deeply, with everything he had.

He pulled away, breathless and awestruck. He took Silver’s hand, pulling him towards the windowsill where he slept, lifting him onto it when it proved a challenge with his leg. He could feel his heartbeat in his neck, Silver’s quick breaths against it as the reality of their situation hit them. As Flint tore off his coat and shirt, boots and trousers, he climbed over Silver and they began to laugh.

“Imagine Billy walking in on this,” Flint said between breaths, helping Silver undress. He removed his long coat and shirt, pausing every few seconds to simply _stare_ at Silver’s tanned body in the candlelight.

“I’d be surprised if he didn’t think we were doing this already,” Silver conceded, helping Flint get his trousers off without catching the iron boot. Flint made to release the leather buckles on the boot and turned to Silver for permission, unsure.

”May I?”

His head was thrown back against the window pane, the light of the moon outside hitting his shoulders. His eyes were heavily lidded with desire, a small smile on his face. He nodded, and Flint took care to remove the boot from his stump leg. Silver only frowned once out of discomfort, but as soon as the boot was removed, it was thrown to the floor with the rest of their clothes.

Flint moved his hands from Silver’s thighs, crawling over him to reclaim his mouth. Silver met him with enthusiasm, his arms coming to rest across his shoulders. His mouth opened at the slightest ministrations, delighted groans filling the air between them.

Silver was nothing like Thomas. He was hard everywhere Thomas had been soft. Thomas’s lips had been wielding whereas Silver’s were fighting back, claiming a stake in the fight. Silver’s body was harder than Thomas’s, though Flint could attribute that to a life of hardships and months spent at sea as opposed to being raised in high society. His hair was longer, softer, his scent more masculine, and his beard could not mistake that this was a man he was kissing, a man he was feeling against his bare skin.

It thrilled him beyond words. This was the part of the darkness he embraced fully. There was no shame in loving another man, not when it looked like this. Not when it felt like this.

Silver’s hands came up to rub at Flint’s shorn head as he pulled away from their embrace. He looked wrecked. His lips were swollen from Flint sucking and biting and playing, and it went straight to his cock. His lips were still slick with spit when he spoke.

“I would have liked to run my fingers through your hair as we did this,” he whispered, his eyes tracing Flint’s lips. His body was warm, and Flint could feel his interest half hard at his hip.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“I confess I haven’t, no.” Flint could swear Silver was blushing as he answered. He leaned closer to Silver, biting this side of his neck softly, lightly, before whispering in his ear.

“You’re going to fuck me, John Silver.”

He felt John’s hands move to grasp his hips, half a groan escaping his mouth. “Are you sure? I’ve never -”

Flint rolled his hips against Silver’s, the first real connection their groins had had all night. Silver’s mouth fell open in a silent moan as he scrambled for purchase across Flint’s ass. Flint himself was fully erect, relishing in the small attention given to his cock.

“Are you okay with this?” he continued, spitting into his hand and dragging his fingers down to the tight muscle between his legs. He closed his eyes as he used two digits to work himself open quickly, anticipating Silver’s cock in place of his fingers. He spit again for good measure as he sat up and gave Silver’s dick a few small tugs, coating it with saliva. Silver’s eyes were wide, his chest heaving. He looked absolutely gorgeous like this.

“James,” Silver said, his hands stroking Flint’s sides as he moved himself into a more comfortable position. Flint looked up as he raised himself above Silver’s cock and began to sink down onto it. It burned like he knew it would, but the fullness of it inside him was everything he’d wanted. He hadn’t realized he’d been gasping until Silver’s hands reached his face, bringing him back to the present. “James, look at me.”

He did look at him. He saw nothing but blinding adoration, tenderness, softness reserved for a lover. He was undeserving of such a look and he knew it, yet he couldn’t turn away. He reached for Silver’s hands and grasped them, holding them as if they were lifelines, and he began to move.

Silver was going as fast as Flint was taking it, not wanting to end their coupling. Flint, after a few slow thrusts, growled “Move, dammit.” Silver picked up the pace, soon having to move his hands to Flint’s waist to gain better control. His gasps were steady as he hit Flint deeper and deeper, eventually grazing his prostate.

Flint felt himself come undone with each movement. The ecstasy was overwhelming, threatening to make him collapse entirely. He felt the exact moment he reached the edge, his hand coming to pull weakly at his own cock before spilling his release over Silver’s chest. Silver followed close after, his thrusts slowing dramatically as his orgasm washed over him, pulling out as he came over himself. Their breathing mellowed and it may have been minutes before Flint finally opened his eyes to look at Silver again.

“Kiss me like this,” Silver said, barely more than a weak whisper. His pupils were dilated, his chest still rising and falling furiously. Flint climbed off of him and obliged his wishes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Extinguishing the candles, he retrieved a cloth and began to clean himself, returning with another one to clean Silver. Silver watched him as he did so, not saying a word.

After cleaning them both, Flint lay back down next to Silver. Neither said a word for what seemed an eternity. Flint looked out the window to the sky, the stars and moon illuminating it. He could hear Silver’s heartbeat, feel Silver’s heartbeat. It felt good.

“You must understand that you are not alone,” Silver finally said, his hand reaching for Flint’s and finding purchase. His voice was familiar now. It was warm, like a tropical breeze. It was terrifying how much like home one person could become. “But I will stay. And I will wait. A day, a month, a year, forever, if that is what it will take for you to understand.”

In the darkness, there was discovery. In the darkness, Flint’s demons were chased away by the man drawing spirals onto the back of his hand, by the man who whispered ‘you are not alone’ as they made love. The darkness was full of so many wonders, the best one being the way Silver said his name, with the same reverence Thomas once had.

In the dark there was freedom. And Silver was the light.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [someone who knows absolutely nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redflavoured) about Black Sails. Find me on [tumblr](http://percyofwhitestone.tumblr.com/). Please talk to me about gay pirates, I need fic ideas.


End file.
